jesus in technicolor

17 january 2010

okay, so I had to look up what "technicolor" means and it's not exactly fitting to describe my 2+ hours in church this morning.. but that word kept running through my mind as I sat in the steamy church, right up front by the pastor and visiting priest as well as other preachers (the highly e-steamed guests), listening to the notes of synthesized keyboards drowned out only by incomprehensible voices resulting from overly-enthusastic men and women yelling far too loudly into microphones. Yikes.

I wanted to attend church with Jean Jacques today as a way to thank him for taking my 3am phone call the other night - I was terrified, receiving repeat calls from someone saying something I didn't understand into the phone over and over again - he called them back, it was a wrong number.. but imagine, you're all alone in a house in the middle of Africa with someone dialing you over and over again, saying something you can't translate.. thinking to yourself "Oh my gosh, are they right outside my house??". That's scary.

So, being Commander Jean Jacques' "VIP" today, as he called me, he picked me up in a military truck, right outside my gate - which involves driving all across the school campus to reach. I was glad to see him and we asked about one another's families and whatnot as we made our way to town. I told him how glad my mom had been to hear that I called him the other night when the mystery caller kept ringing me... that it was a relief to her that I have someone here to go to incase of trouble.. I told him to imagine how he'd feel if one of his 6 (almost 7! - shooting for 10) children moved away to some far off land and whatnot. He said of course, he said that I was his first born and that he was my bodyguard. I liked that. Later this afternoon, he introduced me to the waitress at the restaurant we went to (where he treated me to lunch) as his first born.

So we got to church and as I said.. it was loud. My eyelids were heavy but all of the noise was too much. I closed my eyes and bowed my head (in prayer, of course), although some might say otherwise - but it was too loud in there to properly doze. Besides! How could I doze if Jean Jacques himself was translating the whole sermon into English - me, his VIP - well shoot. It would've been rude to sleep on his watch. This church was Protestant, as is the director's church I have been to a couple of times, but even still, this mass was different, very different from those that I'd attended in my village.

*Catalin, I was thinking of you the entire time because you could have dished up this mass into a 36 scoop-multi-flavored bowl of awkwardness.

Okay. Differences:

1. English. This mass was given in Kinyarwanda and translated into English as well as Swahili. You know, you might think that attending a service where English was spoken would be a good thing but as I discovered.. all of the sudden I was being held accountable. When they introduced me, in front of the entire congregation, as JJ's guest, I couldn't just laugh it off as if they were talking about the muzungu who showed up that given Sunday. No, they properly welcomed me and I had to stand up and wave and be polite. Weird. Also, now I understood what all of those loud shouts were about. These people LOVE God. They love God so much that they scream and whistle and you know... I didn't mind those noises before, and I'd assumed what they were about, but to hear these cries in English.. and then to feel pressure to enthusiastically praise the Lord in chorus.. well shoot. That's awkward, especially for a girl raised in a Catholic church where the "praise" and "thanksgiving" is limited to a slew of old squawkers in the choir and the monotone, expressionless response of the assembly. Catholic church, at least from my experience (and I'm sorry if you find this opinion offensive), is stand up, sit down, kneel, try to stay awake. This Protestant church is. Well. A lot more involved that anything I've ever seen before, I can tell ya that.

2. Electricity, meaning microphones and electric keyboards. I have a new-found appreciation for the simple beating of drums and the way that the rain covers the voices of those giving thanks (a lizard just came in my front door.. yesterday he used the window as his means of entrance) a my director's church. These city folks were yelling into the mic the way you see used car salesmen on TV yelling about their great deals in their husky, drained voices - trying to get in as much information as loudly as possible into their 20 second commercial time-slot. I couldn't even try to pick out the familiar words, practicing my listening skills, as they were all completely lost on me.

3. The Dancing - at my school director's church, you can get up and dance if you like, but it's mostly the old mama's who sit up in the front left part of the church and the children who occupy the first couple rows of pews. Here, EVERYONE danced. I'm not usually one to give into peer pressure but okay, when you're the only white person in the church, you stand out just as much as a fresh hickey on a teenage girl's neck stands out to her father's infuriated eyes. So that's one thing, but then, if you're the only white person AND the only person in the entire building not out of your seat, moving your feet, waving your arms (or as was the case with one man - imitating a chicken with the occasional Free Willy jump) and dancing your butt off.. well, damn. What'd you even come to church for?

A friend of mine likes to say "Simplicity is the best spice". Comparing this city church to the small one in my village, I'm thinking maybe he's right. I'll pass on the electricity and keep my eardrums, thankyouverymuch.

So after mass, Jean Jacques and I went out to lunch at "tourist hotel" where I ate the first Rwandan food I've had in nearly a month (the lack or Rwandan food in my diet is a choice, by the way, not misfortune). But we scoped out the buffet and ordered a couple mugs of hot, fresh-squeezed milk. We talked about everything.

Jean Jacques loves the Lord so we talked about God and faith and religion a bunch. He was really glad to hear that I knew the story behind Easter (which I am sure only added more points to mom & dad's - good job raising your daughter - score, p.s. you got extra points for the fact that I was in Girl Scouts, attended Sunday School and played on sports teams growing up). We talked about war and peace and AIDS and safe-sex and rape and abortion and favorite foods and the importance of family and different languages he speaks (12 total, by the way) and the strength of Rwandan mamas and helping the less fortunate and how it's a good quality to wear your heart on your sleeve and say what you mean and mean what you say and parenting and finding your purpose in life and our most important values (integrity - his, honesty - mine) and after all that, Jean Jacques seems to think that I have the presence of God's spirit in me, even if I don't know it yet.

I was nearly brought to tears so many times during our conversation. It felt so good to talk about my dreams to a fresh perspective and to tell him about my family and how yeah, you know what, my family, even my crazy parents, are pretty great and I have had so many wonderful opportunities already in my short life of just 22 years (I know, I know "I told you so" mom and dad are thinking. and you're right, but sometimes I guess you have to find yourself surrounded by people who have nothing to really see and count all your blessings).

So, it was pretty fantastic. We finished up lunch, got back in the truck, the guards hopped on the back and we pulled back onto the main strip in town. We drove past the gorilla hotel where a big white family was dining outside on the patio. Sometimes (depending on location) I have come to see white people with just about as much shock as Rwandans and as I starred at them, gawking (gosh, I'm awful), I caught a couple of them looking back at me. I wonder what thoughts or questions must have crossed their minds at that moment, seeing this young American in a RDF military truck. It felt good though, to have just spent the past 2 hours covering subjects A to infinity with Jean Jacques, to make this real, concrete connection with someone, rather than to just be passing through to visit the volcanos, see the gorillas and then make like a banana and split.

I needed to pick up toilet paper so Jean Jacques pulled off the main road and ran in a store and brought out a bag of 5 rolls (5 rolls = 1,000 RWF = $2). I'm not kidding when I say that toilet paper is a luxury here.. the mark on the last roll I used literally was "luxury".. it's pink, "luxury" wrapper reminds me that toilet paper is a comfort, often seen as a necessity, but in fact really just another luxury we often take for granted. Gosh, I felt silly sitting there while Jean Jacques ran in to buy me toilet paper.. as a girl might feel silly asking her dad or boyfriend to pick her up some tampons. But, if I'm Jean Jacques' first born, I guess that riding shotgun with the RDF and having him pick up some toilet paper for me are just a couple of the perks that come with the position.

As I type this Jean Jacques rings me. He told his wife about me,

"did you tell her that she has a new oldest daughter?"

(he chuckles on the other end) "yes, she laughed!"

I thanked him for a wonderful day and tell him to go switch on his generator so he can read in his tent (literally.. this man sleeps in a tent at their "camp" near the main road) "the tent looks sweet" he tells me. We visited it today in the day light, but this man is proud of his tent.. and I've got to give him credit, for a tent, it is actually pretty sweet. So it's dark out now, i watched "inzuba yagiye gusinzira" (the sun goes to sleep - don't check the spelling.. or grammar for that matter, the point is that people understood what I was doing when they asked) with Aderine and some other children. We had a good time taking pictures, Aderine has become my new little photographer/assistant (makes me really glad I opted to get the tumble-resistant, water-proof camera after all) and well, I think it's time for a bucket-bath.

Last night the stars were out in a way I don't know I've ever seen before. I was so happy to see them, I ran back inside, grabbed a sheet and crossed the road to lay down in the grass. Just as the thought "I wish Shell was here to see this with me" my phone rang. Sister ESP. Her timing couldn't have been more perfect and I was so glad to share a few minutes together. I saw a falling star while still on the phone with her but I'll never reveal my wish. I really hope it comes true.